Spencer's Gift
by Letters From No One
Summary: Spencer Reid is held hostage by a man desperate to save his brother from death. With the team racing to find him and the clock ticking, Reid must devise a way to escape before he meets a brutal end.
1. Chapter 1

**Happy Reading! I own nothing!**

The rain pounded down onto the pavement, drenching Reid instantly. He had barely walked out of the subway station before water was gathering in rivulets that streamed down the creases of his clothes. Nobody took notice of Reid as he walked slowly down the street, for it was the middle of the night, and nobody was around. He walked slowly, his feet dragging with every step. The case hadn't been particularly difficult; in fact, they had solved it in only three days. However, Hotch had insisted on leaving at midnight in order to be home for Jack, and nobody had objected to the late flight.

Reid rubbed at his eyes wearily; the short nap on the plane had only served to make him more tired. As the street light above him flickered, Reid looked up, frowning. It had been doing that for months, and frankly, it was a safety hazard. He made a mental note to call the electric company to have them come fix it.

He turned the corner, wiping a sopping strand of hair from his eyes. He was beginning to feel the cold in his bones. He would have to change as soon as he got home, or he could catch a cold or pneumonia. Reid mentally scanned everything he knew about contracting diseases from prolonged exposure to moisture. He concluded that he would most likely be okay, based on his current body temperature and the length of time it would take him to reach the house and change into a new set of clothing.

Reid slowly tromped up the steps of his porch, fumbling in his pockets for the keys. He managed to draw them out of his pocket, before dropping them, picking them up, and then dropping them again. Reid picked the keys up a second time, then fumbled to get the keys in the hole; his fingers were too cold to function properly. The lock clicked open, the door creaking on its rusty hinges. Reid made a second mental note to grease that in the morning.

He paused in the doorway. Something was off. Not only did the familiar beep of the alarm not go off as the door opened, but his unopened mail sat on the coffee table instead of below the letter slot. He took a step forward, fumbling for the light switch as he did so. As the lights flickered on, a rustle came from the left. He walked over, slowly drawing his gun, trying to be as silent as possible. As Reid rounded the corner towards the bedroom, someone knocked him on the head. His grip on the gun was momentarily loosed from shock, and the intruder soon began wrestling control of the weapon away from Reid.

Reid blinked the stars away, before firing two shots into the floor, more to attract attention to the house than to harm the other man. The gun fell to the ground, and both men dove for it. The intruder landed on top of Reid, wrapping his hands around Reid's torso. Reid desperately kicked out, struggling to get free.

Several of the kicks landed on the stranger, who grunted and loosened his grip. Reid wriggled free and fled back towards the door. The man pursued. Reid looked around desperately for a weapon. A vase J.J. had given him the previous Christmas sat on the coffee table. He hesitated for a moment, before grabbing it and throwing it towards the stranger. J.J. would understand why he had to break it. Not only did he want to stop this man, whatever his intentions, but also if his place was in disarray and furniture broken, there was no way the intruder could make his disappearance look like an accident.

The vase missed, smashing into the wall behind him. Reid picked up a bowl that was also on the table. It hit the man on the side of his head. He stopped. Blood was flowing down the side of his head, only serving to make the man look more menacing. His head was shaven, and he wore a tight black t-shirt that accentuated both his muscles and his tattoos. Reid picked up _The Encyclopedia of Birds and Their Mating Grounds in North and South America_ and heaved it at the man. It missed, and he charged forward, grunting. Glancing around frantically, Reid grabbed the coffee table and held it in front of him like a shield. The intruder charged through the wood and snapped it in half, before throwing broken pieces everywhere.

The man picked Reid up as if he were a ragdoll and threw him into the mirror, which shattered on impact. Reid let out a strangled scream, before fading into blissful blackness.

Reid woke briefly while in the back of a van, only getting a bleary look at his surroundings before he fell unconscious again. His next conscious thought was not until hours later. The world was blurred, vaguely reminiscent of coming down from a high.

He licked his lips, wondering why he was so cold. And then he remembered. The man in his house, the struggle, and then, nothing. He never had time to change out of his wet clothes. I hope the man packed me some, he thought bitterly. He snorted. As if. With the recollection of the attack, he began to look around. The room was white, no windows, only one door, and a bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling.

His hands were tied roughly behind his back, using some sort of thick rope. Looking down, he realized he was lying on a small cot that was shoved into the corner of the room, but there was no other furniture. And other than the pounding in his head, the rest of his body was relatively pain free. Judging by the fuzziness of the room, Reid guessed he was slightly concussed.

The door swung open. There was no handle on the inside, and thus no possible way he could use the door as a means of escape. Reid's attacker walked in, a bandage around his head.

"Ya got me good, ya little bastard. You'll pay for that." His voice was deep and rough. His eyes were hard and angry.

Judging by the distance between his nose and his lips, along with the slant of his eyes, Reid guessed that he was from an Eastern European country, possibly Yugoslavia. More worryingly, the man was showing his face to Reid. If the man wasn't scared that Reid would remember his face, the man had no intention of ever letting him go. His hearted thudded with this realization.

"Don't worry. I'm not gonna kill ya." He paused, licking his lips savagely. "Yet."

Reid closed his eyes, trying to suppress the panic welling up inside him. When he opened them, the man was still there, staring.

"What do you want with me? I'm just . . . I'm just . . . I have no money, I'm not famous, and I have no rich friends. But if you let me go now, I swear I'll forget this ever happened."

"See, Dr. Reid, I have a plan. You may not remember me, but I remember you. You arrested my brother, and soon he will die if I don't save him. So what we have here is what your good friends at the FBI like to call a 'hostage situation.' And you _will_ get me my brother back."

Reid racked his brains for a case where the unsub was about to receive the death penalty. The number of unsubs he had caught who were to be executed within the next year was surprisingly high- twenty-three. Quickly eliminating the ones whom he had not directly arrested, Reid was left with only seven. He then eliminated all of the women unsubs and those who were not Caucasian, and was left with only two. Riley Giles was sentenced for the rape and murder of thirteen women. Giles, however, was 70.

Reid finally spoke: "Is your brother Michael Aremovic?"

The man looked surprised that Reid was able to deduct who the man was that quickly. He sneered slightly, revealing crooked, rotten teeth. Reid allowed himself to be smug for a moment, before delving into his memories of the case. It had been particularly gruesome; Aremovic kidnapped eight children for five days each, demanding five million dollars from each family. When they couldn't pay, he would slowly kill each one. They finally caught the man after the ninth child, when Reid was able to deduce his location using a formula he had created based on the probability of each child being chosen.

"You're right. My brother is Michael. I don't think we have ever met personally though. I am Jeremy." He held out a hand as if to shake one of Reid's, before grinning nastily and retracting it.

"Listen," Reid began. "We can work something out. Let me call my boss, Hotchner, and we can just find a solution. You know, there are approximately 1,000 innocent people imprisoned each year- your brother could be one of them! We can just hire him a really good lawyer to work his case- I know one from Project Innocence, I am sure he would be happy to help!" Reid was rambling, tripping over his words and talking fast, like he did whenever he was excited or nervous. He knew Michael was guilty- the team had found him holding a knife to a little girl's throat- but he would say whatever it took to get free.

"You're right- I am going to let you call your boss. But you are going to say exactly what I tell you, and only what I tell you. Stray at all, and I will shoot you. Capiche?"

Jeremy stepped closer to Reid, drawing a gun from the waistband of his pants and a sheet of paper from his pocket. He pressed the gun to Reid's temple, flipping open a cell phone with the other hand.

"Dial."

"I can't. My hands are tied."

Jeremy pressed the weapon harder into Reid's head, aggravating his injury from the mirror. Pain shot through his body, intensifying beneath his eyes.

"Give me the number. I'll dial."

"555-403-1222."

Jeremy pressed the numbers slowly, as if he was having trouble making out the symbols. Reid observed his hesitancy, noting that he might be barely literate. The phone started ringing, with Jeremy holding the phone between the two men. He counted the number of rings, worried Hotch might not pick up if he did not recognize the number. After all, it was probably still early. He frowned; he didn't actually know how long he had been out for, and Jeremy had removed his watch.

"Agent Hotchner."

**Cliffhanger! (ish). There really can't be much of a cliffhanger if the story has just started!**


	2. Chapter 2

**12/3/13: I have edited this chapter for several grammar mistakes.**

"Agent Hotchner."

Jeremy shoved the sheet of paper into face. Reid had to lean back to see the words clearly.

"Hotchner. It's Agent Reid. We need to talk," Reid stopped, then squinted at the paper proffered in front of him. Much of the words were misspelled, and the scrawl was illegible.

Hotch immediately heard the quaver in Reid's voice. The words stuck in his mouth from unfamiliarity; He wasn't sure if he had ever heard Reid say 'Hotchner' instead of 'Hotch,' or introduce himself as 'Agent Reid.' Sometimes he used Doctor Reid, but that was only to strangers, and never to him, who was practically family.

"Reid. What's wrong?"

Reid ignored the question and plowed on, following only the words scripted in the note. The gun pressing into his temple felt all too real.

"You have Michael Aremovic in custody. He is scheduled for execution in three weeks. You will release him at a set location. Do not attempt to follow him. Give him $5,000 in cash. If you do not do exactly as I say, I will be forced to do something drastic."

Hotch was shocked. What was going on? He had arrived at work about half an hour earlier, and had noticed that Reid wasn't in the office, but had put it down to the late night they had all had. He got up from his office, walked out to the bullpen, and motioned Morgan over. Hotch covered the speaker with one hand, then whispered to Morgan, "Get Garcia to trace this call _now_."

He lifted his hand and addressed Reid again.

"Reid, I know these last couple weeks have been stressful, but can you tell me if you are safe?"

On the other end, Reid was silent, his eyes shooting up to look at his captor's face. The small movement made his head pound again, and he closed his eyes briefly. Jeremy jerked the phone away, putting it close to his mouth.

"Listen, you son of a bitch. Your _friend_ here arrested my brother. You will trade me a man for a man. Fair deal, no?" He snarled. "You have five days to free my brother. Call me back when I can talk to him."

Hotch blinked, startled. He wanted to point out that it was impossible to call back if the phone was untraceable, but he figured it wouldn't help Reid. Morgan came back from talking to Garcia.

"She can't track it. It's changing IP addresses too fast. She would need the phone call to last for at least thirty minutes in order to pinpoint a location."

Hotch gave a curt nod, his only acknowledgement. Prentiss and Rossi both came over from where they had been talking by the coffee machine. Hotch mimed writing on a piece of paper, and Prentiss grabbed a notepad and pen. He pressed the speakerphone button, and began writing. UNSUB = _Michael Aremovic's brother_. Prentiss nodded and hurried away to do a search on him.

"Listen. I'm sure we can work out a deal. Just led Reid go, and then we can talk."

Rossi and Morgan both looked shocked, their eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Hotch forgot that they still didn't know what had happened. It had only been minutes since he himself had gotten the call.

"Can I talk to Reid again? I need to make sure he's not hurt."

"I can assure you, Agent Hotchner, I didn't do anything to him that he didn't do to me."

"He hurt you?" Hotch was stalling for time, trying to keep the man on the line for long enough to track the call.

"The bastard hit me with a fucking bowl. For such a scrawny looking kid, he sure has an arm on him." The man was warming up to the subject, and Hotch allowed himself a breath. This was good. The man was easily manipulated, which would work in the BAU's favor.

"And you made him pay for that, right?"

"Nothing he didn't deserve. I'm nothing if not fair."

Morgan grabbed the phone away, his hands shaking with rage.

"_Fair? Fair? _You bastard! You kidnapped a federal agent! We will find you. And when we do, do not expect me to be as nice as Hotch here. Because I _will_ make you pay for every last thing you do to Reid. You better live in fear, because your days are numbered."

The man let out a nervous laugh.

"That sounds like a threat to me. I don't like being threatened. Let's see if Reid likes it when I'm threatened…"

Reid spoke for the first time since he had read the note out. His voice was a whimper, and laced with pain.

"No, no! Please. I don't like it. Morgan didn't mean anything by that. He was just saying things. He would never hurt you."

"Too late."

The call went silent as everyone at the BAU waited with baited breath. There was the sound of the phone being put down, and then Reid whimpering.

"Please. Please. No, no, no."

Jeremy stood square to Reid, his fist pulled back in preparation to punch him. Reid screwed up his eyes in anticipation. He knew logically that he shouldn't tense up, but evolution was telling him to make his body as small as possible. Even though he was expecting the punch, it still hurt more than he would have thought. His breath left his lungs with a woosh, and his body doubled over from the pain. Judging by the location of the punch, Jeremy had hit him on one of his kidneys. Side effects from a bruised kidney could include inflammation, abdominal and back pain, painful urination, and a fever.

The BAU team couldn't see what had happened, but they heard the gasp Reid let out. Nobody said anything, but Hotch gave Morgan his _I'm not going to say anything now, but you are in deep trouble_ look. Prentiss rushed over holding a sheet of paper. In big, sloppy letters, she had written the words "Jeremy Aremovic." Hotch nodded, taking in the new information.

"And that is what happens when you threaten me. Your friend gets hurt. Don't try to find me. You won't. I will call you in five hours, and you better have good news for me."

"One second. Would it be possible to see Reid? Just to ensure he's not dead?"

"You think I'm an idiot? No way!" Jeremy hung up, and then stormed out of the room, carefully locking the door on his way out.

In the bullpen, everyone stood in silence for a minute. J.J. entered the room holding a large stack of files.

"Sorry guys, it looks like it's just paperwork today."

The group looked up at her, shaken out of their reverie.

"Get Garcia. Conference room, ASAP. We just got a case."

**Thank you so much for the reviews! They mean the world to me! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you so much for the reviews! They mean the world to me! **

Five minutes later, the entire team had convened around the round table.

"Ten minutes ago, I received a call from Reid and an unsub, whom we later found out to be Jeremy Aremovic. Reid was taken some time last night. In order for Aremovic to release Reid, he is demanding we free his brother, Michael, who is scheduled to receive the death penalty in just a few days. He is also asking for $5,000. He is going to call back in five hours, so we don't have a lot of time. I need Rossi and J.J. to go to Reid's house and try to piece together what happened there. Prentiss, start working on the geographic profile. Garcia, look up everything you can on Aremovic. Morgan, you look into why he chose Reid specifically. I am going to go inform Strauss of the situation. We need to figure out everything about this man, because when he calls back, we _will_ be ready for him."

Hotch hadn't taken a breath since he had started talking, hadn't looked at his teammates. He couldn't see how much this was hurting them, how much they all cared for Reid's wellbeing. Reid had never been the same after Hankle, and Hotch wasn't sure that Reid could survive another ordeal at the hands of a sadistic unsub. More importantly, Hotch couldn't stop because then he would think about the implications of this hostage situation. Statistically- historically- this would end in might break.

Across the room, J.J. was taking deep, calming breaths. She knew, logically, that this wasn't her fault. It wasn't the same as last time, when she had been with Spence, and they had split up. But J.J. couldn't help feel that she should have done something- anything- to prevent this. She could have offered him a ride home, or insisted he sleep at her place, or convinced Hotch to wait to fly back to Virginia. Anything that could have prevented this nightmare.

To J.J.'s right sat Prentiss. Her expression had hardly changed, a crease in her forehead the only indicator of her worry. But inside was a different story. She felt sick at the thought of what was happening to her friend at the moment. Moreover, the geographic profile was Reid's job, and Prentiss knew that she had only been assigned it because everyone else was crap at it. But if Reid were here, he would have nailed down Aremovic's location immediately. Ironically, in order to find Reid, they needed Reid.

Aside from Garcia, Morgan was the easiest person to read. His arms were crossed and his fists were clenched, barely controlling the anger that was threatening to bubble over. Morgan was determined to catch this man before anything else happened to Reid. The memory of Aremovic hurting his friend because of his threats was all too fresh in his mind.

Rossi was to the left of Morgan. His face was calm, but his body was all too tense to be natural. Rossi glanced over to Garcia, who was barely containing the tears welling up in her eyes. More than anyone else, Garcia was the one who hated the horrors the team witnessed in the field. She was the mother hen of the group. She worried and fretted over everybody's wellbeing, but Reid's especially. He was that much more fragile, that much more innocent than the rest of the group, Rossi mused. He glanced at his watch again, before looking to J.J. The clock was ticking, and they needed to head out.

Hotch left the round table and headed to Strauss' office. He always dreaded meeting with his boss, but today would be especially bad. He would have to not only explain why one of his agent's was missing, but also convince Strauss to let them stay on the case.

Hotch reached the door and stopped. Taking a deep breath in, he gave himself a moment to compose himself. After a moment, Hotch knocked.

"Come in."

Strauss looked up in surprise. She wasn't expecting Hotch; the BAU team was on stand down for the week, and didn't have any active cases.

"Strauss, there is something we need to talk about."

She nodded toward the chair in front of her desk.

"Sit."

"I received a phone call about twenty minutes ago. It was from a man claiming to be Jeremy Aremovic. He is holding Reid hostage until we free his brother, who is due to receive the death sentence soon. He is also demanding $5,000. Aremovic is going to call back in about five hours. I have sent out my team to work on a profile." Hotch stopped talking and waited for Strauss to formulate a response.

"You can stay on the case, but only if you keep me updated at every step. Your team is known for going… rogue, and I don't want to hear anything like that again. I will work on updating Agent Reid's status as missing. I will have to inform my bosses of the situation."

"Thank you. I'll let you know when Aremovic calls again."

Hotch left her office, careful to shut the door behind him. He stopped short, closing his eyes. This couldn't be happening. Automatically, Hotch began processing everything he needed to do before the next phone call, and shoved his worry to the back of his brain.

While Hotch was talking to Strauss, the team had dispersed, and Rossi and J.J. were driving to Reid's home. J.J. gave instructions when he needed to turn, but other than that, she was quiet. After several minutes of choking on the stifling silence, Rossi began to talk- ramble, really. He would do anything to stop J.J.'s train of thought.

"It's funny, really. I've never been to Reid's house. He's been to my place, of course, and I've been to yours. But I've never been to his. I imagine it's filled to the brim with heavy books and research papers."

She ignored his comment. "Turn right here, and then it's the second building on the left."

Rossi pulled the SUV to the curb and hopped out. It was a nicely manicured colonial, but nothing special. It was very Reid-like. J.J. walked straight to the door, separating a key from her key ring.

"Wait, you have keys to his house?" Rossi asked with a glance.

"Yeah, just for house sitting and stuff." Then she realized what he was implying. "Eww nothing like that- we're just friends!"

Rossi let out a skeptical snort. He knew they were just friends, but the teasing kept his mind off of what was happening.

With shaking hands, J.J. attempted to insert her key into the lock. After several attempts, Rossi gently took the key from her hand and unlocked the door. As he pushed it open, the door caught on something. He shoved a little more, and the object gave way.

Walking inside, the duo stopped dead in their tracks. The place had been ransacked. Rossi let out a long, low whistle as he took in the sight before him. What the hell had happened?

There was glass everywhere, and pieces of a coffee table littered the ground. Several stacks of books had been knocked over, and a few frames were hanging crookedly on the walls.

"Whatever went down, he put up one hell of a fight."

Books were scattered everywhere, and the mirror next to the door was shattered, with blood splattered all around.

Glancing at J.J., Rossi realized she was close to tears.

"Should we try to figure out what happened?"

J.J. nodded, still in shock.

"So I'm Reid. I walk in the door. He somehow realizes that someone was in his house. I don't see any broken windows, so that isn't how Aremovic got in. Could Aremovic have entered through the door?"

J.J. didn't respond, and instead slowly walked the perimeter of the room, inspecting the damage.

She let out a gasp. "The alarm. Do you see this box here? If the alarm is enabled, it should be blinking red. It also beeps when the door is opened. Spence must have noticed that it didn't beep."

"Okay, good. Now we know what alerted Reid. So he draws his gun and starts checking the rooms." Rossi walked towards the bedroom, looking for the beginning of the damage.

"This is where it starts. There is some blood on the wall. So let's say that Aremovic somehow surprises Reid and stuns him."

"Look, there are two bullet holes in the floor. How did the neighbors not hear this?"

"So after Aremovic hit Reid, Reid fired two shots into the floor, probably as they wrestled for control of the gun."

J.J. walked back towards the living room.

"So Spence tried to run, but the man follows. He threw whatever was in reach at Aremovic, but the man kept coming." She stopped again, looking around. "Oh- that's the vase I gave Spence when he moved in here." She took a deep breath before she was able to continue. "At this point, he must have also thrown the bowl, because they were both on the coffee table. So at this point, Spence must have thrown the bowl, which only angers Aremovic. Somehow the table is smashed, and Spence is thrown into the mirror, which breaks."

Rossi knelt to inspect the fragments of glass.

"Judging by the amount of blood here, I would guess this is when Aremovic knocked him out," he said.

"I think we've learned everything we can from here. I'll call Hotch, you call CSI and have them process the house," J.J. said.

She flipped open her phone and started dialing. This whole thing didn't make sense. Where were the neighbors? Shouldn't they have heard the noise? Two gunshots would have made quite the bang, and the houses were close together.

"Hey, Hotch?"

"How'd Reid's apartment look?" Hotch didn't even bother with a greeting.

"It was a wreck. Rossi and I will give you our theory when we return. But what's more worrying is that no neighbors called the police. The fight would have made a racket."

"Maybe the phone lines were down last night?" Hotch mused.

"But what about cell phones? Those still would have worked," J.J. countered.

"I'll have Garcia look into that when she has a moment. In the meantime, we have Aremovic's address. You and Rossi head over there and inspect it."

"Ok, we're on it."

Rossi had finished his phone call several minutes earlier and was waiting patiently for J.J. to finish.

"What did Hotch say?"

"He wants us to go to Aremovic's house. I think he just sent us the address."

Five minutes later Rossi and Hotch pulled up in front of a run down house on the wrong side of the tracks. It was a far cry from the neat colonial they had just visited. They both strapped on their bulletproof vests and drew their guns. Both were confident that Reid was being held somewhere else, but visiting the house would give the team a unique insight into the inner workings of Aremovic's mind.

Rossi knocked on the door.

"Jeremy Aremovic? Are you home? This is the FBI!"

Nobody answered. Rossi and J.J. looked at each other. J.J. took a deep breath, then kicked the door in. Stepping over the wreckage, she walked inside.

She immediately stopped in her tracks. "Rossi, do you see this? Hotch needs to get over here, now."

**Thanks for reading, and sorry that it took me so long to get up! Midterms totally kicked my butt!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks for the lovely reviews and follows! My plan from now on is to update every Tuesday, unless I miraculously find the time to write more. As well, I don't think I ever clarified, but this story takes place before Strauss' death and when Prentiss was still on the team.**

Hotch had just finished a call with the warden of the prison that was holding Michael Aremovic. The man refused to believe that the hostage situation was a serious threat, and he had to resort to using his superior position in order to be able to interview the prisoner.

Hotch's phone rang again, and he had to resist the urge to smash it against the wall.

"SSA Hotchner speaking."

"Hotch, you have Rossi and me on speaker. You need to come out here and see this."

Hotch let out a sigh and glanced at his watch.

"We don't have that much time before Aremovic calls again. I'll take the rest of the team and meet you there. We'll be there in 20."

Rossi and J.J. hadn't left the entrance of Aremovic's house. Plastered on the walls and ceilings were photos after photos of Reid. Some were of him walking down the street or working on a case, but others were more invasive. There were ones of Reid eating dinner, watching T.V., and some while he was changing. Scribbled on the walls were notes of the date, time, and any other thoughts Aremovic had at the time. Sometimes he had formulated the best way to kidnap Reid, while other times he had written grocery lists.

"Rossi, look at this one. This is from two years ago. How long was Reid being stalked for?"

"I don't know, but look at this. His vocabulary is very simple, and many of the words are spelled wrong. Probably didn't have much of an education. But he was patient if he waited for two years. I'm going to call Garcia and see if Aremovic had contacted Reid at all before this."

He opened his phone and hit his speed dial.

"Garcia speaking."

"What, no witty message for me?"

"I'm not in the mood. Not until we get my baby boy back."

"I need you to look something up for me. Can you see if Reid received any threatening emails or phone calls within the last two years?"

"I can, but I'm in the car heading to you right now. I can get limited information right now, but I am going to need to get some wifi first."

"Okay, tell me when you have anything."

"Hotch says we'll be there in three minutes."

"Bye."

"What did she say?" asked J.J.

Before Rossi had the chance to answer, a man stepped through the door.

J.J. immediately morphed into her media liaison role.

"Excuse me sir, you can't be here. This is a crime scene."

The man was tall, and dressed in a dark suit.

"I know. Strauss told me the team would be meeting here."

Rossi's eyes suddenly flickered with understanding- he recognized the man.

"Excuse us sir, but why are you involved with this case?" Rossi asked, stepping forward.

"Let's just say that I am personally invested in the outcome of this case."

Rossi took another step, his eyes narrowed.

"And why does the _assistant director of the FBI _have a personal connection to this case?"

The man paused, fumbling with his words.

"I am his… umm… his… sponsor…"

"Excuse me? What are you implying about Reid? Sponsor?"

The man didn't respond. Rossi mentally went over his list of people with sponsors. It mainly consisted of athletes, drug addicts, and alcoholics.

"Are you accusing Reid of being an alcoholic? Because I don't think he even knows what whiskey is!" Rossi had taken another angry step forward. The two men were mere inches apart, glaring into each other's faces.

Outside, the rest of the BAU pulled up and rushed into the house. They stopped short at the scene in front of them. Rossi and John Meyers stood toe to toe, the tension palatable in the room.

Hotch rushed forward, already in crisis resolution mode, and roughly dragged back his best friend.

"Sir, what are you doing here?" Hotch addressed the FBI assistant director.

"I am just here to make sure the investigation is running smoothly. Strauss said I could meet the team here."

"That's fine, sir. Forgive me for asking, but you don't normally involve yourself in our cases. May I ask why?" Hotch was using all of his diplomacy skills to be tactful; the last thing he needed was to deal with politics in the middle of the team's worst nightmare.

"I am Spencer's sponsor, and I am concerned for his wellbeing." Meyer threw another nervous glance at Rossi. Apparently the man didn't know about Hankle.

"Ahh." Hotch let out a noise of understanding.

Rossi grabbed his arm and dragged him back outside.

"What is going on here, Hotch? The assistant director of the FBI doesn't just make house calls. You need to be honest with me. What does he mean by 'sponsor'- what is he sponsoring Reid for?"

Hotch couldn't meet his eyes for a moment.

"Reid… Reid used to have a drug problem. Obviously, he fixed it."

"What do you mean 'Reid used to have a drug problem?' Are we talking about the same person here?! This is Reid, who can't talk to a woman without blushing, and can list every side effect of drugs known to man!"

"Rossi, you need to _calm down_. I promise, I will explain everything to you later, but we don't have the time right now. If you can't control this freak out, I will remove you from this case."

Rossi glared at his boss for a minute, but finally answer. "I'm fine. But you better have a damn good explanation for all of this."

"Don't worry. We do."

The two men re-entered the house. For the first time, Hotch looked around. The walls were plastered with photos of Reid.

"Okay, we only have two hours until Aremovic calls back. We can process this house afterwards." Turning towards Meyer, he continues. "Sir, if you would like to sit in on our conversation, you are more than welcome. However, we don't have time to explain our thought process or answer questions."

"That's fine. Thank you."

The team settled around the kitchen table and began the process of profiling Aremovic. Rossi and J.J. explained their theory about the initial attack, which the rest of the team agreed was likely.

Morgan looked thoughtful. "So this man spends months, possibly years stalking Reid. Based on the writing on the walls here, he came up with dozens of different ways to attack Reid. Yet the plan wasn't very well thought out. Reid put up a fight. It would have been much easier to threaten Reid with a gun or knock him out with a strong hit to the back of the head. So Aremovic is patient, but not very smart."

"That makes sense," said Hotch. "He clearly spent hours brooding, but couldn't come up with a decent plan. And he was never well educated. If he had done any research at all, he would know there are dozens of ways to easily make someone unconscious."

"Guys, I have something!" Garcia exclaimed. "So I was looking for any suspicious threats, like you told me to, and Reid received several phone calls from the same number. Most of the phone calls were short, although some lasted for an hour or so."

"But other than that there were no threats?" Hotch questioned.

"None," Garcia confirmed.

"Okay, call that right now."

Garcia began dialing the number, but Prentiss quickly interrupted.

"Garcia, can you read that number out? I might know who it is."

"Sure. It's 963-482-1234."

"That's not Aremovic, and I don't think this person can help us with the case."

"Prentiss…" Hotch warned.

"Fine. I'll tell you, but you won't be happy." She paused, looking at the faces of her teammates.

"A couple of years ago, Gideon called Reid. It took a while for Reid to forgive him, but he was persistent. Now they talk once a week or so."

The team was shocked. Gideon had abandoned the BAU without any warning. They were a family, and Gideon tore a hole in all of their hearts. Hiding behind her laptop, Garcia's heart sank. She had tried, several years ago, to track down Gideon. She was unsuccessful. Reid had known how much finding him had meant to her, yet he didn't tell her. Masking her betrayal, Garcia called the number.

"Hello?"

"Gideon? It's Agent Hotchner with the FBI."

"I remember who you are. No need to be so formal. Who gave you this number?"

Nobody answered for a minute. The team glanced at each other, unsure of what to say. Finally, after a deep breath, Prentiss spoke.

"Gideon? It's me, Prentiss. We have a problem."

"Who gave you this number? Only… only Reid had this number!" He growled into the speaker. Then he went silent with the implications of his statement.

"Where is Reid? Let me talk to him."

"Gideon, Reid was kidnapped by an unsub by the name of Jeremy Aremovic last night. We were searching Reid's records when we found several phone calls from this number. I'm sorry, we didn't mean to bother you," Hotch said tightly. His lips were pursed, and his eyebrows were furrowed. He had yet to forgive Gideon for abandoning the team, especially Reid. Although by the sounds of it, Gideon and Reid had been in contact the entire time.

"Wait, I know that name. Aremovic… Aremovic. Oh! Reid, Greenaway and I worked that case together. There were two cases that both needed our attention at the same time, so the team split up. I thought that bastard was in jail."

"He is. It's his brother that has Reid. Look, I can't tell you any more. This is all confidential."

"I'm coming. I'll be there in a couple hours."

"Gideon, you can't come. You don't work for the FBI any more."

"I promised Reid I would protect him. This time, I am going to do my damndest to keep that promise." Gideon hung up the phone with a snap, his mouth a grim line.

"I'm coming to save you, Reid."


End file.
